


one look at you and my whole life falls in line

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940's, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Second Person, Stucky - Freeform, rewriting the train/zola scene with a happier ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 09:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You thought you saw yourself in those blue eyes and that crooked smile. You remember nearly careening to your death as the earth opened wide to swallow you whole and the tears on his cheeks as he murmured "You can't do this to me, you idiot." Yeah that's you: forever playing the fool for him.</p><p>You remember the day, down to the minutes, when love saved you -</p>
            </blockquote>





	one look at you and my whole life falls in line

**Author's Note:**

> I get to love you, it’s the best thing that I’ll ever do.

You wanted to believe love would save you. You digested millions of words soaked in sentiment and let them choke you in hopes that he would take your hand. As a child you pushed love into a corner and dared it to bloom.

To you, love is a bullet covered in acid and you're soft enough to pass through and leave exit wounds.

But you never forget to stomp out the gunpowder before it reaches his heart because love is explosive and he doesn't deserve to be a casualty of your own personal war. God knows you bleed enough for the both of you.

When he drags his feet on a double date, you wipe a smudge of blood from your collar (invisible, he cannot see your wounds).

When he kisses a disgruntled date goodnight, another drop falls.

When he's softly snoring in your bed because warmth is the barrier between living and dying, you apply a tourniquet.

When his face goes sour and fists clench every time a dame kisses your cheek, you begin to drown in your own blood. And it doesn't end there. You go on dying bit by bit, second by second.

You leave for basic and it feels like every ounce of blood has been drained from your body, causing your heart to weaken in the cracks that he cannot see. You take the memory of wrinkled sheets on his side of the bed, the softness in his eyes that only you're allowed to see, how the sun shines on his hair like candlelight, the _S_ curve of his spine and how it feels under your fingers - you take this with you when you go.

You kiss him quick, kiss him with clouds in your eyes and never enough time to explain why you had to do this. Just once.

+

She walks in and you see red. She's curves and a cunning smile - an invitation to dance. You want to step into her space and breathe harsh on her cheeks - _"This one is mine. The war has taken everything from me and I can't lose him too"_ but the smitten look on his face makes you stop dead in your tracks. You'd said it a thousand times and once more for good measure - _"You'll find the right girl someday, Steve. You'll know it when you see her."_

You know this for a fact because that's how you feel every time he enters a room. One look at him and your whole life falls into line. 

There has never been anyone else despite endless dates with dames that never repeat and giving them your most charming smile. Here in this bar they're invisible and you're too far from home tonight. Then he rounds the corner and all you see is him. There's so much of him to touch and you're aching for it. 

You were going to tell him, drunken slur and a wink, but you waited too late. The streets of Brooklyn once watched as you fell in love, watched as you tearfully walked away but he does not know. Even now, the dusty bar witnesses your downfall.

Maybe it's better this way.

+

[Zola's train]

You thought you saw yourself in those blue eyes and that crooked smile. You remember nearly careening to your death as the earth opened wide to swallow you whole and the tears on his cheeks as he murmured _"You can't do this to me, you idiot."_ Yeah that's you: forever playing the fool for him.

**You remember the day, down to the minutes, when love saved you -**

 

Steve's breath comes out in frantic white puffs as strong arms hug you harder than he ever has.

"You can't do this to me, you idiot."

Hair sticks to his forehead, to the damp on his face. Restless palms come up to cup each side of your face then slide down to your neck as if he's not sure what to do with them. He's a beautiful mess and he is yours. Carter may give him something like love but you've got the real thing - you know this because it hurts.

You're not sure what to do with the sensation that bubbles up in your chest when he's near but you need to do _something_. You turn your face into his palm and tell yourself you'll never take this for granted, not again.

"You should be home," you murmur as the body remembers stealing a kiss before shipping out. You should be home, you say. It's a double entendre - _You should be her home, not mine._ And _You should be in Brooklyn sketching flowers and pretty girls for me; sketching your own reflection in the mirror and mailing yourself to me. Swear to god I'd send you my heart from a million miles away._

His voice comes out soft in the hollow of the train.

" _Don't_. I'm where I should've been all along."

The war. A soldier. The front lines. The exact opposite of where he should be.

A hand brushes against yours as it falls to his side.

"No you're not."

Three steps and he's closer. Maybe this is how you die - by touch, by eyes as blue as the ocean. You still bleed for him, he still does not know.

He presses a palm to your chest and feels life thrumming away one beat at a time. And that's the thing: you thought you were going to die and leave him with fragments missing. Pieces you'd shamelessly taken for yourself. You never wanted to break him but he's looking like a shattered mirror. You never wanted to be the one who planted storm clouds and hurricanes in blue eyes. God knows he needs someone who will not love him with enough force that it damages.

Icy winds blow through the missing cargo door and you're running out of time. The mission must be finished but love is an impatient beast. She will take your reason for living and give him to someone else. She will leave you feeling scarred and invisible. However, if handled carefully, she will give back what she receives.

"Home," Steve whispers.

 _You_ are his home

You are his home

YOU are his home

The thought baffles.

"Steve?"

A gloved hand comes up to cradle your head and this is it. This is years of careful touching, existing on 3-4 hours of sleep due to his coughing and your worrying, begging him to stay home and not fight this war because you need him more than life itself. This is a single stolen kiss and walking away with tears in your eyes. It's him, it has always been him.

Warm lips dip in to press against yours and frantic words are spoken in between a succession of kisses. "I'm sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry. God I'm so..."

"Shhh. I'm here. I'm still right here."

It's a reminder to yourself as well as to him: I exist.

You take your time in kissing him. One arm finds his waist and holds him in place, draws him into your orbit. The other brushes hair from his forehead and traces the outline of his face as his eyes flutter closed. For one horrifying minute you thought you'd die with hand outstretched and never taking what had forever been out of reach but death does not fill your stomach with butterflies or bring tears to your eyes. The dead cannot cry. You're alive because of him.

"Kiss me," he murmurs.

Trembling hands clutch at his suit as you tilt your head to the side and press the tip of your tongue to the seam of his lips. They part and you get lost in the wet heat of it all. It's only when his hands take yours that you notice he's shaking as hard as you are.

His voice comes out ragged, hoarse, when he speaks. "When this war is over, I'm taking you out for a drink."

Thumbs brush over his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, the side of his neck - you can't seem to stop now that you've began. You want him to consume, devour, leave you breathless.

"That sounds like a date, Steve."

More wind comes in from the side and the two of you hunker together along the wall just in case. Hands intertwine and you hold on tightly as he holds onto you.

"And if it is?"

If fate exists, he is yours.

"Then I accept."

You'll take him anywhere, everywhere. From Coney Island to the Grand Canyon. To the ends of the Earth and back again.

He turns to the side and your lips find his neck. You're drunk on the feeling of being allowed to do this and nothing could bring you down from this sunshine.

"We could go dancing," you suggest, mouth laving over the column of his throat . It's not unusual for two men to dance in public as long as they're willing to part if a woman wants one of them.

Steve groans.

" _Or_ we could stay home and you could teach me."

"Or that, yes."

You no longer bleed, he slowly stitches you together on the inside. To you, love is a second chance.

The train comes to a halt.

The mission awaits.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "I get to love you" by ruelle. beautiful lyrics <3


End file.
